Stranded
by PuzzlePrince
Summary: Question: An Enigma and a Bat crash-land on an island, where do they go from there? Answer: Nowhere. Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Stranded  
**Fandom:** Batman  
**Character(s)/pairing(s):** Edward (The Riddler) and Bruce (Batman.)  
**Rating:** (Currently) PG. May change in the future.  
**Warning(s): **None as of yet!  
**Summary:** Question: An Enigma and a Bat crash-land on an island, where do they go from there? Answer: Nowhere.

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

"What's the Sanrio jewel, boss?" his incompetent goons had asked him.

With a chipper smile and a flourished arm, he had replied, "Why, it's this, of course!" and presented them with a hastily cut-out newspaper article with a definition scribbled in green ink beneath it.

_Sanrio_  
_[San-ryo]_

_**1. **An emerald jewel currently being transported from Japan for a brief presentation in New York._

_**2. **The pride and joy of Japan._

_**3. **Our next target._

With an astonishing amount of preparation, Edward Nygma had formed a fool-proof plan to steal the jewel whilst it was still on its transport, something that would enable him to leave the scene without Batman interfering with his escape. Transport to Japan had come in the form in a giant green plane; not very inconspicuous, but it did its job. Soon after its acquisition, multiple men were employed and put under the guise of shipmen. Two of the three professional thief's Edward had employed were made to sneak wielders onto a Gotham military ship, the third snuck in with explosives hidden under his armpits. The rest were sent to Japan to infiltrate every possible source of transport set towards American soil. And naturally, each one of these steps was taken with the care of an ego maniac.

Save for one tiny, insignificant mistake, the plan had gone perfectly.

The mistake in question was cluing Batman into what he was doing.

To avoid the complications that came with transferring an antiquity across the ocean, that single ship offered by Gotham's vast army- packed to the rafters with policemen and sailors- had been sent out as early as three am to provide Japan officials help with protecting their precious cargo. Finding out this tidbit of useful information had been child's play for Edward Nygma, one of the smartest men in Gotham, second only to Batman. He had taken immediate advantage of their carelessness by hijacking both ships with the help of his employees, and had managed to steal the jewel within a matter of hours.

Much to his dismay, Batman flew in while they were on their way out to sea in search of an island to leave the policemen stranded on. The police still had their equipment, so _technically_ it wouldn't have been considered leaving them for dead.

Amidst the flurry of panic as the policemen turned on the Riddler and his many men, Batman managed to capture Edward and haul him into his plane, leaving the police to deal with his hired crooks.

Any escape attempts became futile the moment Batman had him sitting firmly in a seat. Handcuffs weren't necessary in Edward's case; he would only have squirmed his way out of them. Once the ship containing the precious jewel was out of view, Edward reluctantly gave up on the idea of returning to fetch it and slumped down deep into the cushions of his chair, defeat evident in his posture.

And to think, this was only the_ beginning_ of his problems.

Ten minutes into what had started out as an pleasantly quiet flight revealed a failing engine. In his panic, Edward snatched the controls off Batman and twisted the plane towards land. An extremely poor move, he realized, when the plane began to shudder and fall.

Batman none-too-kindly shoved him back into his seat and attempted to re-align the plane with no avail. Its engines groaned. Wings screeched against the pressure of the wind. Tell tale signs of an incoming crash filled Edward's ears and he quickly covered them, green eyes as wide as saucers as they approached a whirlpool of green, blue and yellow.

The impact was immediately followed by a violent lurch. The side of Edward's head smacked into the control panel with the sickeningly wet slap of plastic hitting metal. Pain erupted in his skull, followed by a strange sense of calm that Edward soon identified as himself loosing consciousness.

* * *

Smooth, wet fabric swiped across his stinging forehead. He imagined Arkham nurses tending to his wounds. He imagined the moth eaten smell of his quilts with an equally as smelly pillow cushioning his throbbing head. He imagined Jonathan Crane sitting on his bed, eyes narrowed into a leer, staring over at him from behind the rims of his glasses. In reality, what he opened his eyes to was a stained cloth soaking the blood away from his bleeding forehead, leaving specs of crimson dried to his eyelashes and eyelids.

Acting upon instinct, he jerked back with a startled cry, stifled only by the sudden vibration the impact with his headrest sent through him. "Ouch," he hissed, grimacing heavily. He brought a hand up to prod at the gash on his forehead, but a strong, familiar grip stopped him from picking at the wound.

His bleary gaze trailed upward until a blob of black invaded his vision. Squinting, he soon identified the blob as Batman, who- much to his amusement- seemed quite disgruntled with their predicament.

The fingers on his wrist tightened when he chuckled weakly, and then finally settled with keeping his wandering hand at bay while the rest of his head-wound was cleaned of blood. Groaning deep in his throat, Edward protested, "Is the pressure really necessary, Batman? I'm in no threat of loosing my brain, rupturing it on the other hand..."

Predictably, Batman replied with a noncommittal grunt. To spite him, Edward put on a show of grimacing and groaning, over dramatically twisting his limbs around the chair until Batman obligingly gave into gentler, almost thoughtful swipes instead.

Eventually Edward's head was wrapped up and Batman returned to his control console, seemingly uncaring as to whether Edward escaped or not. Taking it as a slight against his ego, Edward awkwardly stepped out of his chair and navigated his way over to the batplane (or whatever ridiculous name he had given it) exit and pushed it until something swung open.

Instead of grimy grey streets littered with the homeless and rubbish, he was greeted by the sight of a lush green forest, sand and water. Not to mention numerous little critters curiously pausing or inclining their heads up in search of the origin of such a ruckus, but Edward was far too busy trying to think up a lucid question to spare them recognition.

On either side if the beach was a curve met by water, indicating that the land they were on was circular. How ridiculously cliché. A bubble of laughter threatened to escape Edward's lips, held back by only a deep sense of fear.

Were they really...?

"Batman," he started, sounding breathless, as if the surprise had quite literally knocked the air out of his lungs. "I'm assuming you're able to get us out of here-"

"Then you're assuming wrong, Nygma," Batman said from behind a bundle of wires and controls. "The heat short circuited the wires in my plane. Without my repair station, I won't be able to fix it," he peeked up from behind the controls. "I've already checked the island. We're stranded."

"Stranded?" That was absurd. They would get away. They always did.

Batman denied him a reply.

Edward felt a bead of sweat make its way down his chin. The bat plane was becoming unbearably hot, making him itchy in all and every unpleasant crevice. With his three layers of thick winter clothing there was no doubt it would continue getting worse.

The heat had in fact already reached that height of intolerable in some places, so while Batman tinkered with his oversized piece of junk, Edward removed his jacket and draped it over the back of a seat, soon followed by his tie and hat.

He glanced over at a still armored Batman and raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. The heat would soon coerce him into undressing. Edward was sure of it. It was a rather anti-climatic way of discovering the face behind the mask, but Edward didn't particularly mind. It was a victory no matter how he looked at it, albeit a sweaty, uncomfortable one.

"There's water in the hatch to your left," Batman growled, successfully snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to the small black lid beside him, and then back to Batman for confirmation. At receiving a curt nod, he eagerly pulled open the hatch and retrieved himself a bottle, hurting his palms in the process if twisting off the lid. He didn't care. Spending hours lying in the sun, though he had been unconscious for the most of it, had greatly dehydrated him. Now that he thought about it, back on the ship he hadn't had much to drink either. He had been under the impression Gotham would accommodate to such necessities upon his return.

The lid was pocketed as he put the tip to his lips and hungrily began swallowing the surprisingly cool, soothing liquid. From the corner of his eye he spotted Batman watching, swallowed one last mouthful of the water and sheepishly wiped whatever moisture was left away with the inside of his gloved palm. That was one embarrassment he had hoped to avoid.

"Good water," he commented dumbly when Batman continued to stare.

A breathy sound was his reply, unmistakably a quiet chuckle. "There should be enough for a week," Batman explained, sorting through various wires. He pressed a red and blue wire together and watched as they sparked with life, before dying down again. Yet another attempt yielded no results.

"A week?" Edward parroted. "Are we honestly going to be here for that long?"

No answer.

Edward licked his lips nervously. "Longer?"

"Possibly."

"There are over thousand electronics in this machine and none of them-"

"None."

"None?" Edward breathed with bulging eyes.

"None," Batman repeated.

The sudden realization became too much for Edward and he stumbled back, landing heavily in one of the passenger chairs.

In all likelihood, they weren't going to live to see the outcome of this adventure. If starvation didn't get them, the heat would. If heat didn't get them, disease would. If disease didn't get them, depression would. They were screwed four ways to hell with no alternate route available.

Revealing the face behind the cowl didn't have its same appeal anymore. What fun was the discovery if he couldn't do anything with it?

Edward rubbed the sweat out of his eyes in an attempt to placate himself. It didn't do much; just made his eyes ache with an unfamiliar heat induced sting.

"There isn't much going for us survival wise," Edward muttered, solely to himself, but Batman was still listening. He ignored the armor clad man as he plodded around the plane and disappeared into the main cabin, appearing again moments later with a bundle of towels. Edward briefly wondered how many supplies he had packed into the plane. Surely an emergency only required the use of a first-aid kit and some water?

Without a blink in Edward's direction, Batman began to peel off his armor, starting with his cowl. "We've plenty of supplies," he reassured Edward, placing his mask aside so he could run both hands through his mattered brown hair. "Once we run out of them, we can start panicking." Next was the cape, belt and arm bands. Fascinated, Edward made sure to observe his back quietly as he twisted each item off. "Until then, tell me any bright ideas you come up with, and don't stray from this part of the beach. We don't know what animals inhabit this island."

Just for good measure, Batman, lower face hidden behind the elastic of the shirt he was pulling over his head, send him a side-ward leer with heat typically reserved for a misbehaving Robin. The message was clear: 'There WILL be consequences if you don't listen.' what those consequences would be was a mystery to Edward. Unpleasant was the first answer to pop into his head, likely the most plausible one too.

Just as Edward moved to get a better look at Batman's features, Bruce turned until his face was obscured and the back of his stained white wife beater was presented instead.

"If I happen to wander off, I'll let you know whether or not they're carnivorous," Edward joked, much to Bruce's displeasure. He finally raised himself out of his seat to scrutinize Batman's face, putting two and two together upon noticing his well defined and undoubtedly familiar features. "Bruce Wayne! That's an answer even I didn't think possible."

A smile betrayed Bruce's amusement. "Most people don't," he replied gruffly.

"I'm not most people," Edward retorted with a grin. "Two and two just doesn't come together quite as easily whilst balancing concussions."

The slight smile on Bruce's face fell. "Your head will need clean bandages tomorrow morning," he said pointedly, draping a towel over his neck. Edward touched the gauze wrapped tightly around his head to remind himself of the injury there. It was amazing the sort of wound any protruding piece of plastic could leave on you these days.

"A minor injury," he assured bat- er, Bruce Wayne. "Your plane is well designed. I'm surprised we didn't end up loosing a limb or two, or at least a few teeth."

Bruce hands hovered over the arm rests of Edward's chair. "Should I take that as a compliment?" he asked.

"That's what I intended it to be," Edward replied, smirking.

A tense silence fell over the cabin when Bruce finally pulled away. Neither of them made an attempt to break it.

Outside, the waves rolled up against the side of the plane and gently tipped it from side to side in a rhythm of badly placed calm. It was a real shame they couldn't use the plane as a boat. Easy solutions were just as rare for himself as gold was to a miner. For now, the plane would probably just have to stay as a plane, least it have an identity crisis and sink to the bottom of the ocean, taking them and their belongings with it.

Edward sighed and busied himself with folding his jacket into fours. He placed his face mask and hat on top of it, shoved the pile aside, and finally got up to check the damage that had been done to the plane. Kneeling down beside the tangle of wires and various other metallic pieces of machinery Batman had pulled out from inside the control panels, he poked his head the little doorway provided and looked to his left, and then right, noticing quite a few of the wires had been toyed with to the point of snapping. That wasn't the worst of the damage, unfortunately. A big, black burn mark made its way across the upper part of the structure to a blob of what might have once been a group of wires.

No wonder Batman couldn't fix their problem – there was nothing left to fix!

He slipped a gloved finger around the blob of melted metal and gave it a gentle pluck towards him. It sprang back and hit the side of the wall with not a metallic clack as he had expected, but a dull thud. That was certainly peculiar. He did it again with the same results. And then once more just for good measure.

"The plastic melted into it."

Edward jumped, hitting the back of his head on the miniature doorway. Batman grabbed his arm and dragged him over to his chair, just as a painful little vibration ran its course around his scalp. "I appreciate the explanation," he started, blinking away mild distortion. "But what are you planning to do about it?"

"Nothing," Bruce said as he eased Edward down into his seat. That was the second time today Edward had hit his head, and that wasn't even counting the beating he'd taken during their brief fight for the jewel.

"Because there's nothing you can do," Edward reminded himself. In parody of their last conversation, he continued on with, "Well then, we're stranded."

"Shocking conclusion, Nygma." Bruce removed the towel from its place around his neck and dropped it on Edward's shoulders. "I'm going to take another look around the island. Stay here and get clean while I'm gone," he said. It wasn't much of an explanation.

Edward childishly wanted to wrap his arms around Bruce's elbow and reel him back in, force him to stay where he would be in constant view. The possibility of dying alone on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere scared him more than he liked to admit. He needed the other man to sit down and reassure him of his return, but couldn't bring himself to request it in fear of the embarrassment it would bring. He grudgingly silenced his protests as Batman exited the plane and left him to his own devices.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Stranded  
**Fandom:** Batman  
**Character(s)/pairing(s):** Edward (The Riddler) and Bruce (Batman.)  
**Rating:** (Currently) PG. May change in the future.  
**Warning(s): **None as of yet!  
**Summary:** Question: An Enigma and a Bat crash-land on an island, where do they go from there? Answer: Nowhere.

A/N: Initially I was just going to step away from this fanfiction and forget its existence, but man, you guys have definitely earned another chapter with your persistence, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get around to it.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**

* * *

**

The serenity of their seaside tomb unnerved Edward. He sat out on the shore with his legs curled into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. The sleeves of his purple dress shirt had been rolled up to the crooks of his elbows, and the buttons undone, revealing a malnourished, pallid body with little muscle visible to the eye. He bit his lip anxiously as he awaited Batman's return. It had been twenty minutes—yes, he was counting—and Batman hadn't yet made his reappearance. Perhaps he had been bitten by a snake? Perhaps he had become trapped in a nature-formed booby trap? Perhaps there were cannibals inhabiting the island? Edward knew all about cannibals. He had researched them as a teenager, purely out of curiosity.

With cannibalism reigning supreme in his mind, he glanced from side to side at a humming birds pace, searching each corner of his surroundings for something out of the ordinary, something that resembled human skin and would jump him the moment his back was turned. Upon finding nothing more than a few scuttling crabs, and perhaps a few thousand insects, Edward cautiously made himself vulnerable to attack by rising to his feet.

Nothing happened, thank God.

"Paranoia," he scolded himself while edging tentatively towards the lush green forest. It wouldn't hurt to take a quick peek into the obstacle of trees. Just a quick look, to get a general idea of what he was dealing with.

He approached the nearest tree and laid a hand on its trunk, scratching experimentally. A handful of dust and bark fell away. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant for the tree, if anything at all, but he didn't pay it much mind and stepped past the tree to make his mark on the second one in, so he didn't get lost during his adventuring.

He proceeded to do this to every tree he passed until he had covered a considerable amount of ground. When he looked back over his shoulder to ensure the beach was still within his sights, he was met with an endless reel of tree trunks; clearly he had ventured too far.

Suddenly nervous, Edward began to speeding back the way he came, stumbling over protruding tree-branches and occasionally sinking into holes. Multiple cuts and bruises started forming themselves on his arms and legs but he didn't seem to be getting any closer to his desired destination. It was starting to get dark, and he couldn't see the beach. _He couldn't see it._

He desperately circled numerous trees in search of the marks he had scratched into them, but found little evidence of his ever having been there. Whatever direction he had walked wasn't the way he had come. Eddie didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to deal with the wild. He hadn't bothered to teach himself survival tactics for this environment- he hadn't even been good at sports of a child, why would he bother involving himself with the _wilderness_?

Panic rose up and engulfed any sense of a plan he might have had. He began running through the forest, breathing heavily and yelling for help. It only occurred to him when he heard heavy snapping behind him that there were probably hungry carnivores prowling the forest in search of fresh meat. And he had essentially set up a neon sign flashing 'EAT ME, I'M DELICIOUS AND SCARED' with his hysterical cries for assistance.

This was just brilliant. He had just delivered himself a death sentence while trying valiantly to extend his life span.

Edward didn't have much a contingency plan in place and so he continued to run at full throttle in an attempt to lose whatever savage creature had begun to pursue him. It kept on his rhetorical tail, running at a similar speed to his own.

"No, no no no no." Edward cursed under his breath as he attempted to leap over a looming tree root. It caught his foot, sending him sprawling unceremoniously to the floor in a heap of sullied purple and green. The impact drew out a whimper, something he was embarrassed to have elicited.

Whatever had been chasing him finally made its leap, capturing him around the shoulders. He screeched in terror.

"Nygma!" came the familiar voice. "Nygma!" It repeated, when he continued to struggle and kick.

His hyperventilating eased into something manageable when he realized it was Bruce Wayne holding him down. It took all his will to suppress a moan of relief.

"Good lord, Batman," he began scornfully, still out of breath. "Why didn't you just call my name? You didn't need to chase me."

"I did," Bruce stated firmly, with perhaps a slither of concern worming its way into his otherwise nonchalant tone.

"No you didn't," Eddie argued. He could feel a leaf tickling the back of his neck as he restlessly shifted from side to side. "I would have heard you. Don't lie."

Bruce didn't immediately respond, his narrowed slits of eyes trailing over Eddie's battered visage. He placed a hand under Edward's curved chin and forcefully tilted it up.

"Are you nauseous?" he asked gently.

"Nauseous? I—what, no. I mean, I feel a little bit sick, but we just crash landed on a beach not more than an hour ago. That's inevitable. Why are you asking me if I'm sick? I'm not." Less than convincing was the feeble waver inflecting his voice. He hoped Batman didn't think too much of it.

"I was yelling to you and you didn't hear me." Bruce placed pressure on Eddie's torso so the villain would remain still while he cupped his head in two callous hands and tilted it to the side. He checked both ears for blood, and then snaked a finger into Edward's mouth to check his gums. No blood. No internal trauma. He then ran a finger over the underside of Eddie's neck in search of his pulse while the villain squirmed uncomfortably.

"Stop that," Edward snapped irritably. "I'm fine. I'm peachy. I'm a million dollars- or I would have been, had you let me get away with that damn jewel."

Bruce felt the rapid thrum of Edward's pulse against his fingers and arched a brow. "You're stressed," he stated blatantly.

Eddie scoffed, "My goodness, you really are the worlds greatest detective. Please further endow me with your brilliance."

As was typical of the caped crusader, the response was an ambiguous grunt. The hands on his shoulders finally released him.

"I told you to stay inside," Batman scowled in acidic tones. "You're going to get yourself killed, Nygma."

Edward wanted to protest and say he knew exactly what he had been doing before a certain bat had scared the concentration out of him, but that would have been both demeaning to himself and a lie. Neither of which he liked to extend during conversation.

"You left me to fend for myself," he snapped, the very picture of a petulant child. "Was I expected to simply await some horrific fate? I thought I should at least step into the forest; find something editable, in the case that you didn't return."

"I had every intention of coming back." Batman turned on his heel and began to trudge his way back towards the beach.

"I couldn't be certain of that," Eddie muttered while following suit. He kept close to Batman, just in case there were in fact malevolent animals picking up on their scent. "I had one line- one assurance to depend on."

"What did you want?" Bruce asked as he grabbed Eddie's arm and dragged him away from a snakes nest. "To sit down and receive an elongated reassurance?"

Edward looked at Bruce, and Bruce looked back, and he hastily wrenched himself out of Batman's grip to stomp the rest of the way back to the batplane.

* * *

Back at camp, the two managed to maintain a stony silence as they collaborated in setting up a fire to cook their dinner over. There were cans of food on board, only a few, but neither of them were huge fans of cold beans and spaghetti. The baby sweet corn wasn't looking particularly alluring either.

Once the fire was roaring with life, Bruce provided Edward with a pan and instructed him to hold it over the fire while he poured the beans inside. Reluctantly, he did. But only because his negative sentiments regarding Batman's past treatment of him were vastly overwhelmed by his want for food. He licked his fingers when bean juice splashed them and waited impatiently for their meal to heat. It smelt and looked better and better with each passing moment.

"Here," Bruce said once it started bubbling, passing him a plastic plate and a spoon. He accepted both items with mild gratitude. "We'll need to start rationing after this," he continued while watching Riddler shovel spoonfuls of brown gloop into his plate. He left the rest to Batman and shuffled closer to the fire to eat.

"How long will out food supply last?" Edward asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the estimate. He one-handedly began to remove his dress shoes so he could push his toes through the sand. He hadn't done that in some years, and he felt he might as well take advantage of their circumstances while he was still in good health.

"Four days at most," Batman answered.

Edward shoved a spoonful of beans into his mouth while simultaneously throwing his shoes aside and pressing the heels of his acing feet into the sand. Grains ran up his ankles in a rough caress as he spread his legs out to move his plate onto his lap.

"And if we're here longer than four days?" Edward inquired. He was sure Batman had a plan. He wouldn't be so calm, otherwise.

"I have the necessary supplies to keep us living," Bruce replied.

Why did he always have to be so vague?

Riddler stabbed at his plate, squishing an innocent bean into an unidentifiable mess of brown mush. "What, fishing rods? Rabbit traps? Be specific."

Bruce began eating his own food right out the pan, once it had cooled down enough. "You'll see for yourself tomorrow. We're going to be busy," he said before swallowing a small amount of his meal, far slower than the ravenous Edward Nygma. "Are you well enough to work?"

"I think I can manage a few menial jobs for survivals sake," Edward responded. He shoveled yet another mouthful of beans into his mouth, taking a moment to relish the unique flavor. Sea salt and an unidentifiable tomatoey sauce, warm and delicious. Better than Arkham's food, in any case.

"Good." Bruce paused to dig at his food. "You might want to clean yourself, before the night is through. There's hand-wash, but it should do as a body soap substitute."

Edward quirked a brow, "You have a shower in the plane?"

"No," Bruce replied blatantly. "We have a beach."

The detective swiveled his body around so he could observe the tide rolling to and fro along the beach. It didn't look like an ideal place to clean oneself. "Wouldn't that be a bit…counter productive? Sea salt and seaweed aren't exactly natural deodorants. I'll smell disgusting."

"You smell disgusting now," Batman pointed out.

Eddie looked absolutely insulted. "I do not," he protested, scoffing and returning to his meal. He didn't smell like a spring breeze, sure, but he wasn't absolutely repugnant.

"You do," Bruce persisted. "And you're going to clean yourself before the night is out. Understood?"

With gritted teeth, Eddie turned his back on Bruce and chewed extra hard at his food whilst imagining Batman in its place.

* * *

He cleaned himself, as requested.

Edward grumpily sloshed through tumbling waves, naked from the neck down. He had a sudded washcloth curled tightly betwixt his fingers and was unconsciously running it over his navel while he stared into the water in search of underwater predators. He didn't want to accidentally awaken an angry stingray, or attract the attention of a shark. Bruce was keeping watch- not a close watch, thank goodness- on the shore, yelling out to him on occasion to make sure the waves hadn't grabbed him and pulled him down into their depths.

Did he mention that it was freezing? Because it was. Utterly, utterly freezing; the skin on his fingers was starting to turn blue. He clenched his chattering teeth together and hastily cleaned off his face and shoulders once the coast appeared to be clear. After squeezing away the remnants of hand-wash from his washcloth, he struggled his way back to the sand to grab himself a towel or eight.

Batman was immediately at his side, wrapping a towel around his shoulders in what could almost be considered a paternal matter. Either that, or he wanted to make sure his single source of company didn't die of pneumonia. Edward wrapped the towel tighter around his quaking shoulders as he approached the roaring fire. Since his swim around the beach, Bruce had thrown a number of logs onto the fire to get it burning lively again. He lowered himself to the ground-where a towel had been laid out for him-and proceeded to dry himself while Bruce disappeared into the setting sun to have his own bath.

By the time he was dry and dressed and lounging on the sand, head cushioned by his arm, Bruce was already on his way back from his brief dip in the water. He too dried off by the fire and dressed in his old clothes, before lying down to warm up.


End file.
